


A Lamb to the Slaughter

by orphan_account



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Aelin just wants to protect her friends, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Dark, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Mates, Morally Grey Characters, Murder, Non-Graphic Violence, Protective Fenrys, Rowan just wants to protect Aelin, Sacrifice, Some Fluff, Threats of Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, kind of, protective Rowan, territorial fae bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 06:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17482907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Rowan refused to stand by and watch Aelin offer herself up as a sacrifice to forge the Lock.Luckily, she wasn't the only one with Mala's blood running through her veins.Rowan would protect her, no matter the cost.





	A Lamb to the Slaughter

Rowan refused to let Aelin die.

There was nothing, no force in this realm or any other that could force him to stand by and do _nothing_ as Aelin gave her life to forge that gods damned Lock.

No, he would not allow it, not even if the world was lost because of it. He would steal her away, find some lost corner of Erilea where they would never be found and live out the rest of their lives in peace. 

He would do it, too. He knew she’d fight against him, his beautiful Fireheart, but even if she despised him for it, he could live with that. Every kick and scream would be a reminder that she was alive, and he would take it all for her. He would keep his wife safe, let the world burn if it must. 

He would protect them from whatever storm was coming.

This forsaken war wasn’t their mess, why should she have to die for anyone? What had the humans done to deserve that sacrifice? He knew in the very depths of his soul that he would gladly condemn Erilea to its fate to keep his mate safe. Aelin had suffered enough as it was, she had given _everything_ , and they still wanted more. They wouldn’t stop taking until the very memory of Aelin was ground into the dirt.

It disgusted him.

He wouldn’t allow that to happen, not to his mate.

Aelin deserved happiness and love, and a life long enough to enjoy them, far away from the horrors she had already endured.

But… if there was a way to end the war, to save Erilea and his mate, to forge the Lock without losing Aelin, then Rowan would stop at nothing to make it so 

His Fireheart wasn’t the only one with Mala’s blood in her veins. Dorian Havilliard, the King of Adarlan could sacrifice himself in her stead. 

Of course, when he’d brought this up with Aelin she’d shot him down. She wouldn’t willingly involve Dorian in this, and she certainly wouldn’t ask him to die in her place.

He understood it, to an extent. Aelin had so much love for her friends and for her people, she wasn’t happy to die, but she would if it meant they wouldn’t. It was admirable, her selflessness, and one of the many, many reasons he adored her, but not at the cost of her life. 

It wasn’t like he had a grudge against Dorian specifically.

Mind you, the boy had lived a life of luxury built on the back of his father’s warmongering while Aelin and thousands of others had suffered because of it. He’d never had to sacrifice an ounce of anything, so it didn’t weigh too heavily on Rowan’s conscience to make the decision to offer the spoiled Prince in Aelin’s stead.

He’d sat back, seething with barely contained rage as the boy had said absolutely nothing to sway Aelin out of her decision. He was well aware that both Chaol and Dorian had at one point or another loved his mate. He didn’t begrudge them that, Aelin was impossible not to love, but it made their lack of qualms about sending her to her death that much more sickening. 

These were the friends she was willing to lay he life down for. Spineless cowards the lot of them! She was worth so much more, she deserved friends who wouldn’t stop at anything to protect her.

Luckily, she’d found them with her blood-sworn. Fenrys wasn’t difficult to persuade, he’d seen that filthy glares that his brother had shot the Adarlan’s as they so cavalierly discussed offering up Aelin on a platter. Gavriel, blood-sworn in all but name, agreed. Rowan had debated whether or not to ask Lorcan, but he shouldn’t have worried. The dark-haired Fae was waiting out the front of their tent, his eyes icy cold, a determined set to his shoulders.

“Filthy fucking humans,” was all he'd said, but Rowan understood, and he was glad to have Lorcan with them. Aelin was their Queen, his mate, and they would protect her, even against her own wishes.

He didn’t like deceiving her, but he didn’t have a choice. She planned to open the Gate the following morning, the sooner it was done the safer everyone would be, she’d told him. She wasn’t wrong, and Rowan had to move quickly. They shared dinner alone in their tent, as if it would be their last. When she’d eaten her last mouthful, he’d leapt upon her like a starving wolf and she’d let him take her, let him bite, lick, suck and claim every inch of her.

Because she believed it would be the last time. He tasted her tears as she climaxed and knew within himself that he was doing the right thing. She was afraid of dying, afraid of leaving him, she’d had enough fear in her lifetime. He kissed her thoroughly, waiting for drugged wine he’d poured for her to kick in. He pulled her into his arms, reminding her again and again how much he loved her, comforting her as they lay down on their cot and within minutes his beautiful mate was unconscious. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a twinge of guilt staring down at her as she peacefully slept, but there was no other way. With one more kiss, a gentle one against her cheek, he slipped away from the bed, dressed, grabbed his weapons and left the tent. Outside he nodded to Gavriel, sitting nearby sharpening his sword. Should anything happen, Gavriel would be there. He’d watch over Aelin in his stead, protect her or distract her.  

The camp was quieter than it should have been, as if they were on the eve of a battle the soldiers knew they would not win. Those few not already in their tents asleep moved quickly and quietly, which suited himself just fine. He walked with purpose across the camp until he caught sight of Lorcan, almost invisible in the blackness of the night. He waited, Lorcan nodded once, and then a second time. Good, both Chaol and his wife were either asleep, or busy enough with their own activities to disturb him. Yrene was pregnant, and as much as he despised Chaol, he did not enjoy the thought of depriving a newborn child of its father before it was even born. Lorcan, on the other hand, felt no such reluctance, which was why he had been assigned to monitor and stop Dorian’s guard dog from interfering with any means necessary.

He felt more than heard Fenrys approach. Of all of them Rowan trusted him to guard his back and see their task through. They didn’t speak a word to each other as they crept through the camp to the tent of the King, moving like shadows. 

No one saw Rowan enter the tent, just as no one saw Fenrys following him, or the glint of the blade that he unsheathed as he went.

Dorian awoke to find Rowan’s hand covering his mouth and the Fae’s favourite knife pressed tightly against his throat.

“Let’s take a walk,” he whispered softly, and well aware of the razor-sharp blade against his throat, as well as the one Fenrys was carrying (also pointed in his direction), Dorian acquiesced.

The King was surprisingly calm as Rowan and Fenrys led him away from the camp, gagged and with his hands bound. When they were far enough away to not be interrupted, Rowan stopped. He removed the gag and cut the bindings on Dorian’s wrists, but the knife he kept poised at the King’s throat as a warning and a reminder of who exactly he was dealing with.

“Time to make a decision, Havilliard. Either forge the Lock, and die a hero, or run, and we’ll skin you alive,” he said, his face emotionless.

Dorian smiled grimly, weighing up his choices. “If you kill me, Aelin will have to sacrifice herself. She’ll die anyway.”

Rowan’s expression darkened like a storm cloud, but it was Fenrys who spoke, his voice cold and unforgiving. “Never took you for a snivelling coward, willing to let your supposed friends die needlessly. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the poisoned tree,” he spat venomously. How dare he try and use her to bargain for his life!

“If you run, I won’t make it quick, or painless. You will suffer and Aelin will live regardless, I promise you,” Rowan added, pressing his blade just a little harder against Dorian’s throat until a thin line of blood welled and spilled down his neck.

He waited a moment until the full weight of his words sunk in. Understanding crossed Dorian’s face, followed by mute horror. He glanced between the two Fae warriors, read the unwavering determination on both their faces and sighed.

“She doesn’t know you’re here.”

It wasn’t a question. He knew Aelin well enough to know she would never condone this. If he thought to use her morality as a ploy to get out of this alive, he would be sorely disappointed. Rowan knew why he was here, he knew exactly what was at stake, especially if Aelin did find out. None of it mattered, so long as she remained safe. He would not waver, and neither would Fenrys.

“No, and if you do what we’re asking, she never will. Your sacrifice will go down in history, never forgotten. You’ll be the hero who defeated the Valg and saved Erilea. The hero who righted his father’s wrongs.”

Dorian matched his cold gaze, wincing slightly at the mention of his father. “And if I don’t, you’ll take Aelin and flee? Leave Erilea and its people to burn and die? You’re really that selfish?”

Rowan smiled a truly frightening smile, “Without a second thought.”

Dorian turned his shrewd gaze to Fenrys, “And you’re okay with this? 

Rowan snorted, Fenrys’s loyalty to Aelin surpassed all else, if Dorian looked to him for salvation, well, he’d be very, very disappointed.

Fenrys shrugged, a look that would have been cavalier if it weren’t for the flickering of anger hiding just under the surface. “Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” he growled.

“Aelin will hate you for this. After everything she’s been through-“ he abruptly fell silent with a strangled gasp as the air around him was cut off.

Rowan, his face like roiling thunderclouds, leaned in close. “Don’t you dare speak about what she suffered while you pranced around your fucking castle! Just because she is selfless enough to sacrifice herself to save your worthless hides, does not mean we should just stand back and let her. 

Dorian’s face was turning an unsightly shade of purple, and with a wave of Rowan’s hand and a roll of his eyes, oxygen returned. 

Once he gulped down a few breaths he squared his shoulders and glared at the white-haired Fae. “But sacrificing me, that you can do?”

“I don’t think you understand, boy. There is nothing I wouldn’t do, no lines I would not cross to protect Aelin.”

Fenrys, unusually quiet, met Dorian’s desperate, pleading gaze. He didn’t need to say anything. He’d been with Aelin when she’d been tortured. He’d watched as Cairn delighted in tearing her apart piece by agonizing piece, unable to help her. Aelin had saved his life, given the blood oath. He would sooner destroy himself than allow her to go through with her plan.

Dorian would have no mercy from either male. He would die tonight no matter what, he only had to choose whether he died a hero or a coward. He met Rowan’s gaze head on, “I would have gone with her, I planned to. I wouldn’t have let Aelin do this alone.”

“She’s given enough,” Rowan said.

Mindful of the blade poised but an inch from his neck, Dorian turned to gaze back at the camp where his friends were sleeping, safe for the moment. An unreadable emotion flickered on his face before he turned back to face the two males. “I suppose she has. I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“No, you really don’t,” Fenrys replied, his voice hard as flint.

A slow, heartbreaking smile broke across his face. “It’s because of her that we’re all here, fighting this war. Without her I would have been no better than my father. Erilea would have been destroyed, and I would barely have batted an eye.” He scoffed, as if the very thought disgusted him. “If she’d asked, I would have taken her place.” 

Rowan and Fenrys remained silent, though the blade at Dorian’s throat lowered ever so slightly. Aelin would never ask that of anyone, least of all a friend.

“Will you stay with me until it’s done?” he asked. “If I must die I'd rather not die alone.”

“Yes,” Rowan replied, sharing a look with Fenrys when Dorian’s eyes fluttered shut. Yes, they’d stay, not to keep the King company, but to ensure he finished the job.

 Dorian nodded once. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing it for them.” Chaol, Aelin, Sorscha, Manon, Yrene, Nehemia, his people and countless others.

Rowan couldn’t give a shit who he was doing it for, so long as it was done. Quickly and quietly the Wyrdmarks were drawn in the dirt. It was Fenrys who carved open Dorian’s outstretched arm, but it was Dorian himself who slammed the keys into the open wounds. As he grimaced, the skin sealed. 

One moment he was there, the next, his body was a shell before them. 

The pair waited as the hours passed, not speaking a word between them. Finally, in the early hours before dawn, Dorian body crumbled away to nothing before them and the Wyrdmarks on the ground faded.

Rowan had expected there some sign that it had worked, but there was nothing, no lights, no sound, no explosion of magic. They had no way of knowing whether or not it had worked, but as something shifted within Rowan, and he had to believe that it had. He had to believe that Aelin and their family were saved.

Fenrys came up beside him and placed his hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “The camp will be waking soon.”

But Rowan was staring at the spot where Dorian’s body had literally disappeared, his very essence sucked into the Lock. 

“It wasn’t her, Rowan. She’s safe, we all are. Let’s return to our Queen.”

With a sharp nod from Rowan the two shifted and raced side by side by side back into camp.

Rowan barely noted Lorcan or Gavriel as he swooped past them. Fenrys, no doubt, would fill them in. He shifted mid-air and landed softly on his feet just outside his tent. Silently he slipped inside, his eyes immediately finding Aelin asleep in their bed, safe and untroubled.

Safe. She was safe. Breathing a sigh of relief, he quickly undressed and climbed in beside her, relishing in the warmth of her skin against his. With her safely tucked away in his arms he pressed a kiss against her hair and allowed sleep to claim him for a few blessed hours.

At least, until he was startled awake by Chaol, already dressed (though somewhat haphazardly) storming his way into their tent.

“Aelin!” Chaol cried, jolting his mate awake. Rowan took note of the worried set to the Captain’s face, as well as his red-rimmed eyes. It seemed he had found his King missing in the morning.

“Get out!” he snarled, quickly pulling the sheets up around Aelin to shield her naked form from Chaol’s view. Aelin, for her part, swiftly elbowed him in the ribs. He bit back a smirk, she was such a charming little thing.

“Chaol, what’s wrong, what’s happened?!” she demanded as she wiped the sleep from her pretty blue eyes. Rowan could feel her pulse racing, her heart pounding, her mind no doubt already imaging the worst possible scenarios.  

Panting harshly from his sprint across the camp, Chaol spoke. “It’s Dorian, he’s gone. Disappeared. I thought maybe the two of you…” he trailed off uneasily as the colour leeched from her face.

Instinctively Rowan’s hand sought hers, squeezing it for comfort. 

Aelin opened her mouth to reply but before she could utter a word the entrance to their tent opened once more, and Gavriel stepped in followed by Fenrys in his wolf form.

“Word has come from Orynth; the Valg have fallen, all of them! Terrasen is safe, Aelin! We won!”

All eyes were on Aelin as she processed the news. “Dorian… he sacrificed himself. He sealed the gate. He… he saved us.” When she looked up, she met Rowan’s fierce and adoring gaze and everyone else in their tent melted away.

“The war is over, Fireheart.”

Her eyes were glazing over with tears, and it tugged at his heart. “But Dorian…”

Gently, ever so gently, he took her face in his hands, cupping her cheeks. “Dorian sacrificed himself so you wouldn’t have to. He saved you, and for that we will honour him.”

Behind them Chaol fell to his knees and wept as Rowan pulled Aelin close and kissed her.

She was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> It's probably a bit shit, but I enjoyed writing it. If you like it leave a comment or some kudos :)


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